The Journeying Couple
by Gillingham
Summary: Colonel and Mrs Brandon have stopped at an inn on their way to town. Soon after "Into Thin Air". Saucy stuff, be warned.


The Journeying Couple

Anger. Anger and jealousy and envy and hatred. He felt all those things the moment he recognized the couple just finishing their breakfast at the inn. He could tell they were tired, but they still shared smiles and held each other's gazes as if the rest of the traveling society had not also been having their breakfasts at the inn. Had she kept him up half the night with her youthful demands? Was he man enough to see provide for her as much as she would demand?

Willoughby just knew she would be a sensuous, glorious love to any man she took fancy to – and as much as he hated to admit it, she looked like she very much fancied her husband. He, Brandon, probably wasn't aware how much his usual reserved façade was cracking. The Colonel looked decidedly smitten and could not stop himself from touching his wife a little bit here and there. Just a caress of fingertips on her hand or wrist, tucking away a lock of hair behind her ear – anything that was innocent enough in public but to Willoughby's eyes shouted loud and clear of great closeness and intimacy. Not something one saw too often.

Brandon called one of the maids over to pay. Willoughby heard the maid thank him and congratulate the couple once more, hoping to see them again. So this was Brandon's usual stop between Delaford and town? He wanted to know more. He'd heard of the wedding (who hadn't!), but there had been some talk about an accident and he was keen to know more. Anything that might give him an upper hand should he encounter either of the Brandon's in the future.

Willoughby lowered his face in his corner of the inn to make sure he was not seen by the couple as they left. He was not prepared to pretend to be civil, and this was not a time to openly show them how much he despised them. They looked disgustingly happy. In love. They looked exactly as people had described their outlook at the wedding: here was a couple so in love they would be happy together for an eternity.

Through his window he saw the couple wait for their transport. Clearly they were travelling in a carriage – oh how married life had immediately sedated the heroic Colonel! Willoughby sneered inside the inn. To be so tied to your spouse you'd had to take this tedious journey in a slow carriage. In his marriage he had managed to avoid that altogether. And here is where Willoughby's sour mood turned even darker: then again, he had never stood so close to his wife as Brandon stood to his right now, exchanging more little touches, caressing her cheek as well, bringing his mouth close to her ear and whispering something that made her blush. Willoughby could sense the attraction and the desire between the two, and in all honesty a long journey in a closed carriage with a wife as gloriously sensual as Marianne Dashw – no, Brandon – could be spent in great enjoyment.

He summoned the maid.  
"Isn't that Colonel Brandon out there? And his wife? I understand they're recently married?" he asked, feigning innocence. The maid looked out the window and smiled. There was little doubt Brandon was a favoured patron.

"Oh yes – do you know them?" she asked.

"Oh only from a distance, I'm afraid. I just heard that the Colonel married recently.

"She's so lovely!" The maid declared. And was so happy to know the newlyweds Willoughby did not need to encourage her much more to talk.

"She's younger than him, for sure, but they're so in love – everyone can see that. And then there was that awful accident. He could have died!"

Willoughby only needed to lift his eyebrows in query for the maid to continue:

"He'd been at a farm putting out this massive fire and they say he must have breathed in too much smoke because he must have passed out on the way home and his horse bolted. They only found him on this field the next morning all cold and injured. My cousin in on one of the farms and took part looking for him in the night and the morning and they say Mrs Brandon never went to bed that night, waiting for him to come home!" the maid explained, but then saw she was needed elsewhere and having replenished Willoughby's tea she headed away.

How right Willoughby had been about the attraction and desire between the couple, he would never know. Outside, waiting for their carriage while Willoughby was talking to the maid, Brandon and Marianne stood close, arm in arm, talking to each other in low voices.

"Are you still very tired, my love?" ha asked.

"It's fine, dearest, the night was short, but I had you so I'm not complaining." Marianne smiled at him.

Marianne blushed a little thinking of their short night. They had arrived quite late and after a light supper they had retreated to their room. Once they were in bed, the usual happened: neither could keep their hands or lips to themselves. The gentle caresses and kisses that were initially intended for simply relaxing into the night had turned more intense and demanding. When Marianne had let out a full moan as his hand had found its way up her inner thigh, under her night gown and onto her mound, they had stopped for a moment: if they could hear all that talk and laughter from the other rooms, other would no doubt hear their lovemaking just as easily.

Both hot and bothered, blush of excitement on their cheeks, they had wordlessly had a long conversation simply by looking at each other: did they want to stop now or…? The conclusion had come simultaneously: there was to be no turning back, but they'd better try and keep quiet. Somehow this made the entire endeavour a little mischievous and funny: the two would start kissing each other on all the places where they knew the other was ticklish, and there was much supressed laughter and Marianne's giggling going on in the bed, brought on by wandering hands and lips.

When Brandon's mouth had finally found her more than ready core, Marianne had had to cover her mouth with a pillow to keep her moans down. Her husband knew exactly how to touch her for maximum effect. Her climax had been muffled by the pillow, but the bed was protesting to all movement a little too eagerly. Brandon had been better at keeping himself quiet when Marianne's hand had started stroking his member, but he had not let her take him all the way. He wanted to come with her, in her, and had made her stop only to climb onto her. One push, as lovely as it had been, told them both the bed was not going to be the optimal solution if they wanted to carry on in relative silence.

The little room had little else to go with. The couple had laughed some more when they scanned the room to find that it really only had the bed, a commode and a simple chair. Brandon had, fully naked and his manhood standing out in all its glory, grabbed the chair but deemed it fragile for what he had in mind. Then Marianne had an idea: it might not be strong enough for them both to be on it, but perhaps it could still provide some support? She went to Christopher, equally naked, and wrapped her arms around his neck for one more heated, exploring kiss. She then turned around in his arms and leaned forward turning the chair so that she could grab hold of the back and the seat was away from them. That had felt sturdy enough.

Christopher had had trouble contain himself at the prospect. He loved making love to his wife in any and all ways imaginable, but the way she was now presenting herself to him was wildly erotic. She was leaning forward, effectively denying herself the chance to use her hands or touch him. She was fully open for all of his touches. Marianne felt Christopher spoon her from behind. His arms wrapped around her, one hand finding her breasts that were hanging free like pendlums, the other arm reaching across her hips and lower belly, the hand slipping between her legs. She widened her stance a little to allow him better access. He started to move his hips and she felt his hard member also between her legs, but not trying to push in yet.

Marianne had to bit her lip not to moan loudly when the sensation of his hand on her mound, his fingers inside her slick folds and his hot member pressing against her opening finally sank in. The slow, small movements he made were the sweetest agony and she could not help but to push back a little against him. Christopher's low rumble of a moan told Marianne he found this position rather exquisite as well. Their breathing became faster and deeper as the little nudges and movements grew stronger, and finally they could not hold back.

"Marianne..?"

"Yes, please…" was all the conversation that was needed for Christopher to reach his and just that little bit further in between her thighs so that he could help his tip slip into his wife's anxious, hot and wet canal. The sensation was so beautiful Christopher had to press his mouth tight against her shoulder. Marianne could only press her lips tight together and hope that was enough to muffle her cry.

Christopher's movements were long and slow to begin with, but the way she responded to him in this position neither could stand the tease any further. The pace and force of his strokes intensified, and Marianne pushed back against him every time. Both parties were in awe of how wonderfully she could respond to his movements this way. He had taken her from behind in bed, lying on their sides, but this position was a new experience.

One of his hands remained on her one of her breasts, and the other took hold of her hip to help him steady her. The sensations soon started to build into a climax for both and Marianne knew she would not be able to keep quiet. Strangely, being quiet like this had somehow also brought more excitement for her. Just before reaching her peak, Marianne grabbed Christopher's hand that was on her breast, and guided it to her face.

"Harder..:" she whispered, then placed his hand on her mouth.

For a fraction of a second Christopher wasn't sure if gagging his wife like that was the right thing to do, but then he heard her: harder. The position, the request, keeping quiet, keeping her quiet – it all merged into one frantic bolt of need and desire and Christopher let go. He pistoned himself into her as hard and fast as he could while keeping his hand on her mouth to muffle her cries. She returned his movements in such exquisite way he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. He slipped his other hand back between her thighs and pressed his fingers hard and flat against her nub and he could feel on his other hand how her cry would have been even louder. Their frantic movements together were enough to stimulate the nub as well and in the matter of a few more strokes she reached her peak.

Her orgasm was so very strong. Different almost from any other and so powerful he had trouble keeping her just still enough to push in one more time and find his own release. His climax was also so strong he was barely able to remain standing and he pressed his mouth onto her shoulder, almost biting her, to muffle the sound of his own release. The couple kept on moving through their joint climax, gradually winding down from the high. He took his hand off her mouth and wrapped both arms around her waist, snuggling tight against her back, his cheek pressed against the back of her neck.

In a few moments they had caught their breath enough to straighten up and Marianne turned around in his arms.

"Christopher…" she whispered.

"I know…" he whispered back. Their expressions told more than words could at the moment: the way their bodies worked together was beyond amazing. The realization brought a smile to their faces and they burst out laughing again. All that and almost without a sound!

And it was that memory that had made Marianne blush just before their carriage had arrived. Perhaps they could catch a moment of sleep on the way to town. Or perhaps there would be an opportunity to try and not make a sound again?


End file.
